Nza, the little bird That has from the ground Flown to
perch on Nka earth mound... Is he not still On the ground? One of us asked;

...from its little beak
came a lasting song:

A cook In a hurry To lick the fingers... Are fingers meant For the rafter?

RAINMAKING

A Rainmaker Immersed his stone And vowed it must Be a gloomy turn. The
celebrant For the suns porridge Face, had Another paid; A tussle blindness Stirred, and the day Was
lost.

HOUSE OF HUNGER

To Olu Oguibe during those years at Nsukka

WHEN water Spills,
life Is in circle.

When soup spills, the stomach Is empty Who shall We Blame?

THE
HARMATTAN

We hear the cracking sound of Scorched banana leaves Dancing in the sky Dry ochre dust and grains
Amidst. Stuffy-nosed We caught our Clothes at our Neighbours yards And the trees Bowed to reach out
again For the sky splendour Living and dying;

Clearly, we will hear The buzz again Summoning all To
homage to pay Hey! Our already peeling Lips, and bare skins Crave your grace Once to live.

JUST
A TALE

Then she felt s-o hungry that she was seeing double and if youre seeing double it means that
youre trouble so she took her time on her sable nelly belly! She fumbled scribbled; Grumbling over
cold milk she stumbled into a rafter rumpling her wrapper; And her laughter outlandish and scuffled for
it was not actually milk-pie she was after; It is not a fable, but a tale one can tell, retell or retain.

THE TRAVELLERS

You dont need to worry we are not in a hurry our lorry left early enough
though we are heading for Warri and of course, Port-arcourt We are not worried that by ten we may not
know fury By then We could only be weary Or hours after then even: merry And asking for cherries or fresh
berries We dont need to board any ferry This lorry is cool enough, dear never dusty, never too domestic Its
never lousy, dizzying and devoid of history as you render and tender we do not trust its so Its only too dream-like,
too romantic that even the aged among us dance in golden silence.

We might be late now but we are lateless
let it be heavy rain coming Or a brooding darkness calling by then we could be hairy or hours thereafter merry.

PALM-WINE TAPPER

1997/98 National Youth Service Corp (NYSC) Ugbokolo, an artist-teachers experience

There goes The madman, passing the market Advancing Ankpa Junction With gages Fastened to his bicycle
with utmost care For the contents Are intact, undiluted He is drunkard himself For he taps and drinks his
wine With any one who could offer a little amount He is mad indeed.

THE VIRGIN

Tomorrow
is our wedding eve The cook needs to taste the meal The miner needs to survey the site

But she kept saying:

Let me be a virgin... Let me be a virgin one more night.

JOURNEY AFTER DAWN

From
hence, new Drummers to heed to For, ere, to a fresh Pool arriveth I From that virgin vision point Of the
community To, yes, an oasis of visual Aesthetic intentions.

In these intuitive Viviparous bliss It
is my aphorism Or say I claim, to graft Dusk to day. Etching And braying in flood Coloration those delicate
Lies that are to me true.

And I am chesting out my Probing mass; plotting out with Lines and shapes-assemblies
A spring source whose Water, is clear And when Will I get There..?

SAID PECKER
ON MOON

The sun has sunk our eyes rest from the porridge day skies we can sight and count with leisure
all the heavens stars 1 2 3 4 5... it is full moon boys and girls are coming out to sing and dance to moonlight
plays it is full moon now

There, poises the disdain clasping his tool axe the kin who pecked fire wood
on a Sunday we are Catholic here of sons and daughters of God, trinity there poises the disdain kin with
open mouth begs abstinence from this sin or is he crying or is he laughing at the trunk where no more rests
er where never may rest his axe with crooked ribs with fair firmness he clasps his axe, his tool how long
have you been there wailing, waiting to be heard, freed earths mirrors hear the plea repentance in a heart obliges
and er.. obligates.